Modern Day Beowulf
by GeneralWildfire
Summary: The story of Beowulf in modern day society where the Geats are people who live on the outskirts of society, adopting & adapting the way of life of the Anglo-Saxons & where Beowulf, is considered to be a real life hero from the past.
1. Introduction

**Brief Author's Note**

So this is the story of _Beowulf _applied to modern day standards, however, the modern day, Beowulf has read the Anglo-Saxon poem, they have similar beliefs to those of the Anglo-Saxons, and I've placed the Geats in America… Hopefully this will all make more sense once the story has started! Text, from the story, _Beowulf,_ was gotten from the enotes site.

* * *

**~Introduction~**

There are those who live on the fringes of the societies we know today. These are the ones who have seen all of life's squanders and hardships, along with the brutality that seems to reside in each generation of their fellow humans. These people choose to live on the outskirts of society, embracing a different way of life, throwing away what science has told them is true, and embracing that our world is indeed filled with creatures and monsters the likes of which scientists have never seen. In this different way of living, heroes are regarded as being the strongest, bravest, kindest, and most talked about. Generosity is a key component to becoming a leader in this different way of living, along with being able to get what your followers need; be it food, weapons, or money.

This is not a new way of living though… This style of living that these people have based their way of life on is based off of the ways of the Anglo-Saxons. They believe in kinship, friendship, loyalty, bravery, generosity, and so many simple things that the societies today have lost sight of. These people also have a greater understanding of the world than most…they understand that they are only on the Earth for so long, and they also understand that history tends to repeat itself, which is their ONE difference from the Anglo-Saxons. They believe that history repeats itself, and since history repeats itself, why shouldn't the story of _Beowulf?_

They have based their entire goings on the story of _Beowulf_ believing it to be actual happenings, which is where our story starts…


	2. One

**~1~**

"_HARK! WE Have heard of the glory of the kings of men among the spear-bearing __Danes__ in days of long ago. We have heard how the princes won renown!_

_Scyld of Scefing often __wrested__mead__-benches from bands of enemies; he struck fear in the chieftains of many tribes. A __foundling__ was he when he first lay friendless; fate later brought him solace as he __waxed__ in power and flourished in wealth, until folk who lodge on the whale-paths near and far heeded his decree and gave him tribute—that was a good king!_

_An heir was later born to him—a son in his halls sent by heaven to comfort the people. God knew the woe they had earlier experienced when they lacked a leader, and the Lord of Life, the Wielder of Wonder, endowed the heir with renown. Beow was famed; the son of Scyld's tale spread far in the Scedelands. It is fitting that a young prince use wealth thus in his younger days while his father still lives; graciously giving so that when war comes in his later years, willing warriors come to his aid and comrades hold steadfast and loyal. Praiseworthy deeds are the ways to attain honor in every clan._

_At the hour of destiny, __stalwart__ Scyld departed to God's keeping. His dear clansmen carried him to the seashore, as he had bid them do while he still ruled over the Scyldings with words; he was a well-loved chieftain, and long was his __tenure__ as lord._

_In the harbor rode a ship, its prow __bedecked__ with rings; ice-flecked, outbound—it was a prince's barge—and there they laid their beloved lord, the ring-giver, on the boat's bosom, by the mast. Many treasures and ornaments fetched from afar were gathered with him. Never have I heard of a ship so nobly adorned with weapons of war and battle gear, blades and armored __mail__—heaped upon him was a hoard meant to travel __hence__ with him into the watery realm. They loaded him with gifts no less lordly than those given him when he was sent forth alone as a suckling child on the waves. And, high over his head, they set a golden banner, then gave him to the ocean, and let the waves take him; their hearts were grave, and their mood mournful. No man can truly say, neither son of the halls nor hero under heaven, who received that burden._

_THEN THE TASK of keeping the strongholds fell to Beow, well-loved by the Scyldings. Long he ruled in fame after his father left the world, 'till in time an heir was born to him: the noble Healfdene, sage and warlike, who ruled the gracious Scyldings while he lived. Four children in succession awoke into the world from him, the chieftain of armies: Heorogar, Hrothgar, Halga the good, and Elan; I heard she was queen and dear helpmate of Ongentheow, the warlike Scylfing._

_To Hrothgar was given the glories of war and such honor in combat that all his kin took him as leader, and his band of young comrades grew great. It came to his mind to order his men to build a hall, a master mead-house far mightier than any seen by the sons of earth, and therein would he bestow to young and old all that the Lord should give him, save people's land and the lives of men._

_I heard that orders to craft the gathering place were widely sent to many tribes throughout the earth. His plan achieved with swiftness, that hall, the greatest of buildings, stood there ready. He, whose words held dominion in many lands, gave it the name Heorot. Nor did he go back on his promise, but distributed rings and treasure at the banquet. The hall towered high, with __pinnacles__ spanning the sky, as it awaited the scathing blasts of deadly flame. The day had not yet come when father and son-inlaw stood by with blade-baring hatred, stirred by a blood feud._

_Then an evil creature who dwelt in darkness, full of envy and anger, was tormented by the hall's __jubilant__ revel day by day, as the harps resounded loud, and the song of the singer calle-"_

"Beowulf!" his friend, Aglaeca, called, waving to him.

Beowulf muttered a cursed under his breath, as he closed his copy of _Beowulf_, a gift from his uncle, Higlac. He put a smile on his face, and lifted his hand in the air as Aglaeca approached, "And what brings you hollering down here at this time of day?"

Aglaeca grinned, "Gossip has spread that I thought you'd be interested in, but if you don't want to hear it…"

"No," Beowulf quickly interrupted. "I want to hear this gossip."

Aglaeca continued to grin, knowing he had Beowulf hanging on his every word, "It has been rumored that the Danes are having trouble with an _undefeatable_ monster."

Excitement flashed in Beowulf's eyes. The Danes, were a group in Europe that believed in the same life-style as the Geats, who lived on American soil. Beowulf was eager to head out, to prove that he deserved the name that he had been given.

Seeing Beowulf's excitement, Aglaeca sighed, "Beowulf…don't you ever tire of this lifestyle? Don't you miss being a regular teenager who goes out to the movies, plays sports, you know, NORMAL stuff? You have not been here that long, after all."

"I knew of this lifestyle far longer than you," Beowulf said coldly. He did not like to be reminded that he had only joined his uncle, Higlac's lifestyle only a couple months ago.

Aglaeca sighed, knowing that he had struck one of Beowulf's nerves, "Sorry, I only meant to ask if you missed our old lifestyle, where we were unaware of the monsters that really existed in our world…"

"No, I do not miss it," Beowulf answered. "Why waste our lives trying to impress a society that will never be impressed? The standards are never set in stone."

"At least they do not fight for a living, or resort to the destruction of their environment for everything," Aglaeca muttered softly.

Beowulf heard his muttering and said, in a kinder tone, "If we use our environment, we make sure that we give back to it, which makes us different from the Anglo-Saxons, otherwise, we are the same, culture wise."

Aglaeca sighed, "So you and Brecca nearly killing yourselves as you swam the ocean for seven days was just apart of our culture, huh?"

Beowulf blushed, "Let's not discuss that now; you know that Brecca and I were fine."

"You nearly killed yourselves in that storm," Aglaeca continued.

"Your boats were swept away from Brecca and I," Beowulf stated, defending his actions. "Besides that brought about the nine sea monsters that I managed to kill."

"Barely," Aglaeca scoffed.

Beowulf's cheeks flushed in embarrassment, his hand moving to touch the scar on the back of his neck from one of the sea monsters. When he noticed Aglaeca watching him, he quickly ran his hand through his messy, straw brown hair. He changed the subject, "Let's go see Higlac to see if we can help the Danes with their undefeatable monster."

"Whatever you say, Beowulf," Aglaeca murmured, following his tall friend to the mead hall were Higlac resided.

In the hall, Higlac sat at the head of a wooden table, sitting on his right, was his wife, Leola. Sitting in the other chairs were Higlac's advisory council.

Higlac himself, looked very imposing when eyes were first laid upon him. He had a mane of black hair, and a black beard that was nearly as long. His eyes were a stormy grey that were cunning, and shrewd. Higlac's followers knew that their leader was kind and generous, not the character that you would assume went with such imposing looks.

As Beowulf and Aglaeca bowed, Higlac said, before Beowulf could speak, "You wish to go assist the Danes."

"Yes, Uncle," Beowulf said, still in his bow. "I would like to prove that I am worthy of the position that I hold here among my peers, along with proving that I am worthy of the name you bestowed on me."

"Grant," Higlac said, using Beowulf's real name. "You are young yet, only having just turned eighteen. Surely this can wait. You have proven many times over that you are as strong as the legendary Beowulf."

Beowulf gritted his teeth, hating the sound of his real name, Grant, "It would also warn the other clans not to challenge the Geats if I were to defeat this monster."

Higlac sighed, closing his eyes as he considered Beowulf's words. After a minute of silence he nodded, "Very well, but you will NOT go alone. You will take fourteen of the best warriors with you."

"Of course, Uncle. Thank you," Beowulf said smiling as he bowed to Higlac and walked out of the mead hall, beaming.

Once outside the mead hall he turned to Aglaeca and said, "Ready a ship so we may travel the sea-roads, while I find thirteen other warriors."

Aglaeca's eyes lit up with excitement, "You would take me with you?"

"Of course," Beowulf said, before he took off, eager to find the other warriors who were to accompany him.


	3. Two

**~2~**

_"Time had now flown; the ship was afloat, close by the cliffs. The ready warriors embarked; the waves churned, as did the seashore's sand. On the ship's bosom did the men carry their mail and weapons in bright array; the sailors shoved off, with a will sending the tight-timbered craft on its way. Over the waters did the ship move by the wind's might, like a bird with foam plumage, until in due time on the second day, its curved prow had run such a course that the voyagers could now see land: gleaming sea-cliffs, towering hills, and __headlands__ stretching to the sea; they found their __haven__ and their journey had ended. The Geat clansmen then climbed ashore; they anchored the sea vessel, their armor and battle-gear clashing; they thanked God for a peaceful passage over the sea-paths…"_

Beowulf closed the book, and glanced at the approaching land. Higlac had provided them with a fast moving ship, and the weather had been helpful, not hindering their travel in any way, though it had still taken them five days to reach Europe, what with the weight of their armor, and being delayed slightly by sea monsters (which he had dispatched). A shudder passed through his body, and doubt began to plague him. Unlike many of the Geats, Beowulf was one of the few that had received some education before changing to the Geats' lifestyle. (Higlac and Aglaeca were apart of the educated few.) Based on what he had learned, Beowulf was only a made up character, as were Grendel, his mother, and the dragon. He glanced up at the sky and prayed silently to whatever being would listen to him, _please…please let it be true and not some folly that we're all living..._

Now it should be said, that this Beowulf was nothing like how the ancient Beowulf is usually portrayed. Our young Beowulf is strong for someone who has a slight frame, but he is not a "muscle man". He has used wit and sword to defeat monsters, not his bare hands.

A tap on his right shoulder, reminded him that he needed to look confident so the others would not lose their confidence.

Aglaeca said, "We've made land and are ready to depart."

"Then let's go," Beowulf said, pushing himself away from the rail of the ship.

* * *

Upon a hill, a Dane scout spotted a massive ship docking, which was not an unusual occurrence. What was odd to him was the amount of men and glittering armor that was being unloaded. Urging his steed into a gallop, drawing his sword as he neared the warriors, reining in his mount he demanded, "Who are you who come bearing arms and look battle ready? What business do you have on with the Danes and Hrothgar who rules them? Though I see that you have a hero with you whose confidence and bearing state that he is no foe, unless he's a very good liar; I suggest you state your business or I shall be forced to take drastic measures."

Beowulf took a pace forward, "We are Geats, followers of Higlac, I am the son of one who never followed our ways, though may his soul rest in peace. We come with good intent to help Hrothgar, who protects his people."

"I would wish to hear your true name and Geat name," the scout said.

Beowulf and the others hid their disproval of this well, "My previous name was Grant, as for my true name, it is the same as my Geat name, it is Beowulf. Since we are keeping no secrets from the other, is it true that you have an undefeatable monster wreaking havoc in your lands."

The shore-wander's eyes narrowed, "You have wit, Beowulf, and may your words be true. If you are to do well in what I assume your task is, then you will need to meet my lord." He turned his horse away from them and beckoned them to follow him, and so began their march.

* * *

After marching for several miles, they stopped at a mead hall, obviously where they would be deemed fit to enter Hrothgar's own hall, or be turned away. A proud warrior, by the name of Wulgar, asked them, "Why have you come to our land wearing armor that usually dictates a war?" He gazed at the Geat warriors for several seconds, "You have the looks of those seeking glory and valor—a courageous lot."

Beowulf answered, "We are of Higlac's clan. I am Beowulf. We seek to help Hrothgar, your fine leader."

"I will tell Hrothgar of your good intentions," Wulgar stated. "It will be at his leisure that he sees you." He left the hall to talk with Hrothgar.

Beowulf started to pull off his armor, revealing his dark brown leather jacket beneath. Aglaeca grabbed his arm and asked anxiously, "Is it wise to take off your armor in enemy territory?"

"The Danes our not are enemies," Beowulf stated. "Plus, the sun is shining. If those rumors you told me about this monster are true, I won't have to worry about having my armor until nightfall."

* * *

Having waited in the hall for several minutes, Wulgar returned, "My lord, Hrothgar will see you straight away. He has heard of your noble kin, Higlac, and he bids you welcome.." He eyed Beowulf's lack of armor, "You may leave your armor and weapons here since the temperatures are in the eighties."

Once they had removed their armor and left their weapons in the hall (apart from a few warriors) they were led to the famous hall, Herot.

Beowulf forgot himself, as did Aglaeca as they gazed at the legendary Herot. Never did either one expect to lay eyes on the magnificent hall from _Beowulf._ It occurred to both of them that this Herot must be a duplicate, but the Hrothgar, who sat on the throne before them seemed to read their minds.

"I see you are admiring my hall, let there be no doubt that this is THE Herot," He gestured with a wrinkled hand towards one of the walls, "That back wall bears the marks of the first Beowulf's legendary fight with Grendel."

"May we…?" Beowulf queried. Hrothgar nodded, his eyes twinkling with delight at the awe of the young Geat warriors as they touched the walls were claws had gouged the wood, and benches had struck the fine walls.

"Magnificent," Beowulf breathed, before he remembered his manners, and he quickly bowed to Hrothgar. "Forgive my warriors and I, your highness. We never thought that we'd get to actually SEE much less be IN Herot."

Hrothgar smiled, stroking his white beard, "It is fine, young Geat. There are many who have their doubts that _Beowulf_ is actually based on truth. Particularly those with an education."

Beowulf's cheeks flushed as he said, "Hail, Hrothgar! We are Geats, followers of Higlac, and I myself have gained much fame, though I am still considered young. I have heard of the monster that plagues your magnificent hall and glorious land, to the point that Herot is empty as soon as the sun sinks below the horizon. The best of my kinsmen also heard of this, and Higlac permitted us to come and give our aid." He gestured to the men behind him, "They know of my deeds, as I know of theirs. I will not boast of my own accomplishments, but I shall say this: I shall defeat this monster of yours, whatever it may be called, and I shall slew it. Also, so that it may please you and my lord; I have heard that this monster uses no weapons…"

He heard Algaeca hiss at him in disbelief, "ARE YOU INSANE?"

"I shall not use any weapons to slew this monster," Beowulf stated.

Hrothgar's brown eyes sparked with interest, but he remained silent as Beowulf continued, "And if this monster of yours somehow defeats me, and eats my flesh as he has done with many of your noble kinsmen, do not worry about doing anything with my body, merely send word to Higlac that I have failed and take my armor back to him, along with my sword. The rest I shall leave to fate…"

"To give such a pledge is bold of you, Beowulf, especially considering that you do not look like the type to do well in hand-to-hand combat," Hrothgar stated bluntly. "I trust that you have other abilities that will prove your pledge honorable and not just words… It deeply saddens me to say that many men who have crossed paths with, Headho, the monster, have all fallen. Herot's walls are once again splattered with blood and gore." He was impressed when only two of the fifteen Geat warriors looked appalled at having touched the walls. "I now have fewer heroes with which to boast about…but no matter! You are here, and you shall enjoy a feast before you face Heado!"

At his words Dane warriors were allowed in and Beowulf, Algaeca, and their companions sat down at the table, and enjoyed a feast, all of them only having a drink or two of mead, but no more. They wanted to be able to have their wits about them when they faced Headho. The Danes intermingled with the Geats, no distinction being made between the two.

As they feasted, jealous eyes gazed at Beowulf, Unferth, the hero of the Danes, did not like that Beowulf had achieved more fame than he had. He tried to irritate Beowulf, "Are you that Beowulf? Brecca's rival, who swam a swimming match against him and lost? Both of you foolish in your attempt begin with? You strove for several nights against Brecca, but in the end it was he who swam to land first, so Brecca has rightfully boasted, but you on the other hand had worse luck for that adventure. I don't even see why you're daring to test your limits against Headho, you'll be dead come morning like the rest of them, you are not the _legendary_ Beowulf after all."

Algaeca placed a hand on Beowulf's shoulder, as Beowulf clenched his fists under the table at Unferth's insulting words. He counted backwards from ten before he responded, remembering how the legendary Beowulf had dealt with similar words, "I will not deny that Brecca did indeed reach shore before I did, as for being a foolish race, perhaps. However, Brecca and I took the greatest care, having two ships follow both of us and our swords strapped to our chests in case we needed them. Brecca could not outpace me, though, his natural strength keeping him even with me, though I've had the experience of being on a competitive swim team. Plus, while out at sea we refused to abandon the other until we were closer to shore, but fate had other ideas, sweeping us apart with a storm, even sweeping our boats away from the two of us. At that point in time, the sea-beasts reared their ugly heads, and I had to fight them off, and that's where I got this," he pointed at the scar on the back of his neck. "Those beasts were left slumbering on the shores never to bother anyone else again. After that, and once the skies had cleared, I made it to shore, after Brecca."

Unferth looked embarrassed, but Beowulf was not finished with the one who had insulted him yet, "I have heard little about you, Unferth, what I have heard is that you certainly live up to your namesake, killing your own brethren!" Beowulf spat the words out, disgusted. "You claim to be the hero of this land, but you are not! If you were Headho would not dare enter Herot's walls so casually, nor would he even be alive! I may not be like the legendary Beowulf, but I've done all I can to live up to the name." He pointedly turned away from Unferth.

Hrothgar had heard the heated words of the two youths, but he paid them no heed. As the saying goes, "boys will be boys". He smiled as his lovely wife, Wealhthleow, started to pour out more drinks, pausing in front of Beowulf to state how glad she was that her prayers had been answered.

As the sun started to sink below the horizon, Hrothgar stood and said, "Only on one occasion has the legendary Herot been left to any man that is not a Dane. May your task at hand be a success for you." With that, he and his warriors left the hall.


	4. Three

**~3~**

As the Geat warriors bedded down in Herot, their armor having been returned to them, Aglaeca held out Beowulf's helmet, "You should wear this."

Beowulf shook his head, "No, it will only slow me down, and I'm going to need all of my speed to succeed tonight."

"There you go again about your running ability," Aglaeca muttered.

Beowulf grinned, "It is not my fault that I was blessed with the speed of a cheetah."

"Yeah, you can run sixty miles per hour and I'm a goat," Aglaeca said sarcastically.

"That would explain how you can eat such strange things," Beowulf teased.

Aglaeca fondly punched his friends shoulder, before he said, his emerald eyes meeting Beowulf's sea blue ones, "I still wish you would wear the armor. You have already given up using weapons I don…"

"I will not use weapons, but I will use my environment if necessary," Beowulf interrupted, his eyes lingering on a long chain and shackles that rested on one of the walls.

Aglaeca followed his gaze, "All right. I'd still feel better if you were wearing your armor, but I know there's no point in arguing with you." Aglaeca went back to setting up his own sleeping mat on Beowulf's left. On Beowulf's right, closest to the door, was another warrior, who was already asleep. Beowulf settled onto his mat, drawing a blanket over himself, and slowed his breathing so he would appear to be asleep.

The accursed rogue, Headho, did not keep them waiting. With one pound from his hand, the door shattered, and with a massive leap, Headho had grabbed the warrior next to Beowulf, before the young warrior could react.

As Beowulf threw off his blanket, and rolled off his mat, ready to fight, he couldn't help the feeling of terror that gripped his limbs as he beheld Headho. Headho was a humanoid, his limbs resembling humans. He had webbed hands that were scaled, with vicious claws, his body was scaled as well, with hair appearing to grow just over the scales, his feet were webbed as well, his body was built like a troll's for the most part, but his legs were different, like that of an animals, his legs were strong and muscular so he could leap at his prey. It wasn't his body that struck such terror in Beowulf though, it was the monster's head. Headho's head was human for the most part, stiff hairs covered the top of his head, his pale scale and body hair gave way to pale skin, his eyes lacked a pupil, and he had a short muzzle that protruded from his face. He had sharp teeth, and his nostrils were slits, they kept opening and closing as he breathed. He stood at least eight feet in height.

_No wonder Grendel went undescribed…this creature is horrifying!_ With his hesitation, his fellow Geat was torn apart before his eyes. Headho eagerly licked at the blood that spilled from his dead companion's torn form.

Cursing himself for his cowardice, he rushed at the grotesque creature. Headho dropped the dead Geat, and met Beowulf's charge. As the two collided, now grappling with the other, Beowulf felt terror to creep into his mind again, as he started to slide backwards, his sneakers squeaking to protest as Beowulf tried to push back against the monster's strength. _What was I thinking? This isn't going to work!_

A dull thunk resounded as something struck Headho from behind, Algaeca staggered backwards from the recoil of his blade not penetrating flesh. His eyes wide with fear, Algaeca shouted, "Swords won't work on him!"

_So I noticed,_ Beowulf thought dryly, having staved his terror with the bravery that his friend had demonstrated. With each shove that the monster forced against him, Beowulf started to gauge the monster's strength and the timing of each shove. When he finally noticed a pattern, Beowulf waited for Headho to shove again, when the shove came, Beowulf released Headho and leapt away, the monster keeling forward and striking the far wall.

With a shriek of rage, hatred, and a bit of fear, Headho turned to face Beowulf again. Beowulf watched Headho's every move, and dodged the monster every time it came near him. After several charges from Headho, Beowulf was panting, sweat dripping down his neck, _I can't keep this up much longer…I need to end this soon…_ Headho leapt at Beowulf at that moment, and Beowulf, anticipating a charge, merely moved to the side, but Headho's claws raked his right side and he cried out with pain and shock. He laid his right hand on his bleeding side, judging the severity of his injury, _shallow…the leather managed to take the brunt of his claws…I'm starting to wish that I had worn armor!_

When Headho leapt at him again, he ducked under the creature and raced towards the wall with the chain and shackles, he heard Headho pounding towards him, and he managed to put on a burst of speed. He yanked the chain off the wall, and let it slither to the floor beside him, a Headho got closer and closer. Headho leapt at him again, and as Beowulf ducked under him, he managed to get the chain around Headho's arm.

Headho roared in shock as he felt the chain on his arm, and he ran towards the door, eager to escape the strange, young warrior. Beowulf wrapped his end of the chain around a support pole several times and grimly held on to what little chain remained as Headho reached the end of the chain.

Headho felt the chain tighten, and struggled against it, his roars of rage and pain turning to shrieks of pain and terror as the chain dug into his scales and flesh. With a heave, Headho pulled free, and a horrendous screech of pain reverberated throughout Herot and the land of the Danes as sinew and muscles parted from his body, leaving his arm, and a bloody mess behind.

Beowulf released his end of the chain, and he staggered forward, leaning against the pole, trembling, his hands bleeding from the chain digging into them. He barely registered that someone had placed a hand on his shoulder.

Algaeca said, "You did well for someone who had no weapons or armor."

"I shouldn't be this exhausted," Beowulf muttered.

"Remember," Algaeca reassured him. "Tales were exaggerated a bit back in Anglo-Saxon times."

Beowulf remained silent as he went towards the Geat warrior who had died due to his fear. He knelt beside the mangled remains of the warrior, his head bowed.

Algaeca said, having followed Beowulf, "No one blames you for your hesitation. Headho was a creature the likes of which we've never encountered."

"It is no excuse," Beowulf murmured. He glanced at Headho's arm and he staggered towards it. Algaeca made to help support him when Beowulf snapped, "Don't touch me!" Algaeca stopped in his tracks, dismayed at his best friend's sudden change in mood. He watched in silence as Beowulf struggled to throw the end of chain over one of the rafters. After many throws, Beowulf managed to get the chain over one rafter, he was gasping for breath as he attempted to pull Headho's arm up into the air. When several of the other Geat warriors moved to help him, he snapped at them to leave him alone as well.

After managing to get the arm into the air, and only a few inches away from the rafter, Beowulf tied the chain to a pole so the arm would not fall to the floor of Herot.

In a better mood, Beowulf said, "Let's go tell King Hrothgar that Headho is defeated."

"If not dead," Algaeca said, glancing out the doorway at the trail of blood.

Beowulf nodded in agreement, "Yes, if not dead."

One of the Geat warriors inquired, "Should one of us tend to your wounds first?"

"No," Beowulf asserted. "I'd rather Hrothgar see me right after battle then if I had my wounds tended to first."

The other Geat warriors murmured praises for Beowulf.


	5. Four

**~4~**

When the Geat warriors proclaimed Beowulf's fight against Headho to Hrothgar, the Dane leader and his warriors held another feast for the hero and his warriors in Herot, the arm not detouring the festivities.

Hrothgar toasted Beowulf, who sat amongst Hrothgar's sons, "There was a time that I doubted that we would ever be able to enjoy Herot as we once did, but now that you've defeated Headho, I believe those days will resume! Now, Beowulf, best of heroes, I adopt you as a son in my heart, and I hope you will preserve this friendship till your dying day."

Beowulf was touched by the king's gesture and he bowed his head in thanks, "Thank you, great gold giver. I only wish that I could have killed the fiend here so you would not be left wondering if he would return."

Hrothgar laughed jovially, "That trail of blood outside answers for you, that beast will be dead by tomorrow morning."

Algaeca nudged Beowulf and said in a low tone, "Your fight with Headho speaks for you. They're all in awe of the hand that you hung from the rafters."

Beowulf nodded, his gaze quickly sweeping over the awed faces of the Danes as they gazed at the hand with its scaled skin and the spikes that armored it.

He jumped as Hrothgar commanded, "Bring the gifts that the Slayer of Headho deserves!" His eyes became as round as they could get as Hrothgar set before him a full set of gold armor, a sword that was renowned throughout the nations, along with eight stallions, each clothed in gold, jeweled tack.

Beowulf accepted the gifts, nodding his thanks, unable to form words to his gratitude. Gifts were commonly given to heroes, but never had Beowulf been given so much simply for defeating a monster. No one would be able to condemn Hrothgar in later times.

Hrothgar declared that the fallen Geat warrior would receive a proper funeral, stating that the warrior's sacrifice would be honored. Beowulf remained silent, unwilling to discuss his cowardice when he had seen Headho.

After the funeral, they continued their feast, listening to a harpist sing one of the ancient tales.

Once the tale had ended, Wealhtheow poured more drinks for the men and paused before Beowulf, "Hrothgar has given you a great honor, Beowulf!" She said in a lower tone, venom lacing her voice, "Just remember that we have several strong sons who will take over from Hrothgar!"

"Yes, ma'am!" Beowulf said hastily. Nothing was more feared than a women's temper. Wealhtheow walked back to her seat next to Hrothgar.

The Geats and Danes enjoyed a fine feast along with wine and mead. Only one other time mirrored the happiness that was felt within Herot, and that was back in days long past.

* * *

The Geats were led to a different hall after the feast, several Danes determined to sleep in Herot, and Higlac's followers would not begrudge them their hall.

Algaeca pulled out his copy of _Beowulf, _while his best friend slept, exhausted from his battle with Headho, he read with growing dread: _"THEY THEN SANK into slumber. One there was who paid dearly for the evening's rest—as had often happened when Grendel occupied that golden hall, wreaking evil until his end drew nigh; he was slaughtered for sins. It became known and widely told that an avenger still lived after the fiend. Remembering this dire fight for a great while, Grendel's mother, that wife of trolls, lamented her loss. She was doomed to dwell in dreary waters and cold streams ever since Cain cut down his only brother, his father's son, with his sword-edge. He had been marked with murder and fled as an outlaw; shunned from among men, he inhabited the wilderness. From him there awoke such hellish spirits as Grendel, who, terrible wolf of war, had found at Heorot a vigilant warrior ready for battle. The fell beast grappled with him there, but the warrior remembered his mighty power, that glorious gift that God had granted him, and trusted his Maker's mercy for courage and support. In this way he conquered the enemy and felled the fiend; that foe of man fled forlorn and heartless to the realms of death. And yet now his mother, bloodthirsty and grim, would embark upon a __dolorous__ quest to avenge her son's death._

_The hag came to Heorot, where the helmeted Danes slept in the hall. The princes' old woes came back suddenly when Grendel's mother burst into their midst. Her terror, however, was less, even as a woman in war is less fearsome, and a maiden's might is lesser than that of a man-at-arms, whose hard and hammer-forged sword, stained with blood, carves through the boar on a helm's crest with its keen edge. Those hard edges were drawn in the hall, taken from where they lay on the benches, and many shields were firmly raised. Many thought neither about helmets nor mail-coats when they were surprised with terror._

_That hag was in haste, wanting to flee with her life when the liegemen spotted her. However, she seized a single clansman firmly as she fled to the moors. He was the dearest of heroes to Hrothgar; a trusty vassal among the oceans was he whom she killed upon his couch—a mighty shield-warrior. Beowulf was not there—another house had been set apart for the renowned Geat after the gift-giving. Heorot was in an uproar, and the hag took the famous blood-spattered hand. Fear had come again, and there was mourning in the fortress. It was a __barter__ of sorrow where the Danes and Geats were fated to pay with their loved ones' lives._

_That venerable king, the white-haired hero, was bitter in spirit when he knew that his noble chieftain no longer lived, that the thane most dear to him was dead. Beowulf, the __dauntless__ victor, was brought in haste to the king's bower. At daybreak, the princely lord went with his clansmen, the warriors, to where the king in his abode waited to see if the Almighty would ever turn about this woe-filled tale. He who was renowned in battle marched across the floor with his companions in arms—the hall-timbers echoed—and went to greet the wise old king, the lord of the Ingwines, to ask about whether he had passed the night in peace…"_

Algaeca glanced anxiously down at his friend, as he closed the book. He knew what came next, the legendary Beowulf had then fought Grendel's mother beneath the waves of the lake. His mind uneasy, Algaeca settled down on his mat to sleep, but his dreams were tormented with images of warriors being torn apart by a monstrous female creature.

* * *

At dawn the next morning, the Geats were shaken awake by Danish warriors, their eyes wide with terror. Beowulf rose stiffly from his mat and followed the hysterical Danes to Herot. The sight that met his eyes, along with the other Geat warriors would remain with him for life.

Dead Danes hung from the rafters, just like Headho's arm had hung from the rafters, but it was now gone. Blood and gouge marks marred the walls and floor of Herot. Bile rose in Beowulf's throat at the slaughter that greeted his eyes.

"Did…?" He couldn't form words, the sight of all the dead warriors having shaken him to his core.

Hrothgar shook his head, answering the question that Beowulf was unable to ask, "No. It was not Headho, but his mother. In the night she attacked those in Herot, and even made off with my best friend. I have no right to ask this of you, but I beseech you to go and find that hag and kill her, I will reward you again with riches if you return."

Aglaeca shook his head back and forth slightly when Beowulf glanced at him, Beowulf considered his friend's advice before saying, "I will go and kill Headho's mother, I will need an escort to her home."

"I will arrange if for you," Hrothgar said, relief evident in his voice.

* * *

Unwilling to risk the horses, the Danes and Geats rode ATV's to reach the cliff that led down to the water. As they rode, Beowulf and his warriors took in the forest, the fog that hung in the air, the hoarfrost on the trees; everything was sinister about the place.

They reached the cliffs in no time, grabbing the equipment they had brought with them, including scuba diving gear for Beowulf. As they proceeded down the cliffs in single file, the Danes spotted the head of Hrothgar's best friend, and wailed their grief to the hidden heavens. When they reached the bottom of the cliff, they could finally see the roiling, gore-infested waters of the lake. Sea-beasts of all sorts could be spotted as they breached the surface of the foul-water or as they lounged on the shorelines.

As Aglaeca helped Beowulf don the scuba gear, he muttered, "You ARE insane! You're injured, exhausted, and out of your mind!"

"Can you quit taking jabs at my flaws and just help me with this?" Beowulf questioned.

Aglaeca said, with sarcasm, "No!"

"Hand me Hrunting," Beowulf grumbled.

Aglaeca wasn't done yet, "I still can't believe Unferth gave this to you to use. What if it is weak metal?"

"Hrunting is a legendary sword, you know that as well as I do," Beowulf muttered.

Aglaeca grumbled, "I still say you should take a harpoon gun with you and be done with the hag."

Beowulf sighed as the last of his gear was put on he didn't feel like responding to his friend's grumblings. He glanced at all of the warriors around him, "Wait for me at the top of the cliffs. No reason to risk your lives on these shores waiting for me!" With that said he put the oxygen mask to his face and fell backwards into the lake.

The water's temperature surprised him, instead of being cold; it was warm, almost to the extent of being uncomfortably warm. He was thankful now that he had only worn his boxer shorts, instead of all of his clothes like the Danes had suggested.

Sensing a human in her watery domain, that watery she-wolf came at Beowulf, and gripped him in her clutches. To say the least, Beowulf was surprised at her monstrous size as her clawed hands closed around his body. Unlike Grendel's mother, Headho's mother did not try to kill him then and there. She merely pierced his oxygen tank before she headed to her watery abode, diving down at least a hundred feet.

Beowulf was surprised and grateful when she emerged in an underwater cave, and he gasped for air. He glanced around the strange cavern and he glanced towards one tunnel in particular that had a breeze running through it, _does it lead to the surface?_

Without any warning she flung him across the cavern, and he struck one of the slimy walls, the breath knocked out of him. She came at him, teeth bared in a feral snarl. As she swung her massive hand at him, Beowulf drew Hrunting and swung the sword. As it shattered, he thought darkly, _Duh! Her hide is protected from swords as well…I don't think a harpoon gun would help much either right about now!_

As Headho's mother came at him again, he darted down a random tunnel, her bellows of fury following him. Sliding to a halt in what looked like a living chamber, Beowulf glanced around the room, searching for something, anything that could help him defeat the sea hag! His eyes swept over the torches on the walls and the glittering sword… _Glittering sword?_ His gaze went right back to the blade.

The blade was larger than he was accustomed to, that was certain, but as he lifted it off the wall, he found that he could use it, so long as he used both hands, instead of using one like he usually did. The furious hag entered the cavern than, and bellowed at him in rage, before she leapt forward, her powerful hind legs (much like her son's) driving her forward. Swinging the blade with all his might, not truly aiming, the blade struck the hag in the neck, shattering her neck bones. Headho's mother crumpled to the cavern floor, dead.

Panting, Beowulf gazed at the sword, which he could now see had been forged by inhuman hands. He assumed that giants had forged the blade, since that's who made the blade that the legendary Beowulf used to kill Grendel's mother.

Knowing that he couldn't leave without confirming one more thing, he headed back to the main cavern, and then down a different tunnel, following a trail of blood. He emerged into a small chamber where Headho lay dead. Swinging the sword high above his head, Beowulf beheaded the dead monstrosity, and picked up the head by the hair, _and in the story it took four men to lift Grendel's head, hah! Another exaggeration!_ With the sword and Headho's head in his possession he headed for the tunnel that he had first noticed upon his arrival.

* * *

The Geats and Danes anxiously awaited the return of Beowulf, as the ninth hour of the day started. Algaeca watched the waters anxiously, praying that Beowulf would surface, triumphant. The Danes on the other hand, had little hope of seeing the brave follower of Higlac again.

Algaeca murmured, his heart heavy, "Perhaps we should leave…his oxygen tank would be empty by now…"

"That was emptied a while ago, actually," a familiar voice said from above them.

Algaeca and the others looked up, reaching for their weapons when they realized it was Beowulf, standing on the edge of the cliff above them, looking exhausted, but triumphant.

"How did you get up there?" Algaeca queried.

Beowulf laughed, "From those demons domains, of course! I even brought the head of one of them." He tossed Headho's head to them. "His mother's head would have required one other man to carry it. You can be at ease though, she's dead as well."

With a mighty cheer the fourteen Geats and the Danes that had come with them, rushed to Beowulf, carrying him on their shoulders until they reached their ATV's. From their they took the same paths as they had before, back to Herot, where they got off their ATV's and once again carried him on their shoulders into the hall.

It was evident that all of the Danes were astonished that Beowulf had survived. As they set Beowulf down, Algaeca handed Beowulf Headho's head. Beowulf raised it high and said, "Lo and behold, your highness the head of Headho. I slew his mother and brought back his head, along with this fine blade," he drew extended the hilt to Hrothgar. "That has enchantments on it powerful enough to slay the hideous hag, it is yours to keep since there are no such monsters like Headho or his mother in America."

Hrothgar admired the ancient blade, "You have done us a great service, young Beowulf. The Danes shall speak your name many times over long after you and I are gone. Though you are not as strong as the legendary Beowulf, you have wisdom and wit about you, and you bear them with modesty. Return to Higlac with the treasures that I give you. Let it be known what you have done for the Danes."

"Thank you for your praise, Hrothgar," Beowulf said, bowing stiffly, his wounds from Headho bothering him a bit. "Your generosity will be spoken of for many generations as well among the Geats."

Driving over the plains, with Jeeps borrowed from Hrothgar, the Geats made their way back to their ship. The shore-wanderer waved to them as they approached.

Beowulf greeted the scout, before he withdrew one of the many blades Hrothgar had given him. He presented it to the scout, "For being ever watchful of your shores, may your sight and judgment never fail you."

The shore-wanderer was speechless as Beowulf gunned the engine of the Jeep, shooting towards the boat that would take him and his kinsmen home.

* * *

Upon arrival, Beowulf and his companions made haste to see Higlac, eager to share their tale with him. Higlac was glad that his nephew had returned alive, and he questioned Beowulf and his companions, listening as they explained all that had happened in Europe, and they made sure to praise Hrothgar's generosity. Higlac was pleased with Beowulf, Algaeca, and the other warriors, glad that they had proven themselves worthy of being called heroes and the best of Higlac's warriors.


	6. Five

**~5~**

Time passed, Higlac was killed in a raid, soon after that Algaeca perished as well, in a different raid, causing Beowulf much grief. He ruled the land for fifty peaceful years, no one daring to test his prowess in battle, swordsmanship, nor his cunning. He protected his lands and was generous and kind to the people under his charge, it wasn't until a fool dared to enter the dragon's den. The guardian of treasure was asleep when the thief stumbled into its cave. The thief took only a gold cup, but that was enough to induce the dragon's wrath.

When the dragon awoke, instantly knowing that something was missing from its hoard, it flew out over the countryside, its breaths of flame destroying the countryside. Its flames made it onto the news of the "accepted" society, though they failed to see/know the cause of the devouring flames. The dragon's wrath could not be quenched until it either had its cup returned, or killed the thief that had robbed his hoard. So drew nearer the end of Beowulf, as he knew once he received word of the thief and the dragon.

Opening his worn copy of _Beowulf_ he read: _"This crushing woe was told to Beowulf the King swiftly and certainly; his own home, best of buildings and throne of gifts for the Geats, melted in the waves of flame. This was the heaviest of sorrows to the good old man, and he was sad at heart. The wise man assumed that he had angered his sovereign God, broken the ancient law, and embittered the Lord. Black thoughts welled within his mind, as was never his custom. The fiery dragon had destroyed by flame the folk's own fortress, that stronghold by the sea's shore; the warrior king, prince of the Geats, plotted vengeance. The shield-of-warriors, commander-of-the-princes, had them craft for him a wondrous war-shield made completely of iron; he well knew that the forest's wood was worthless against fire—linden could not help. The valorous prince was fated to end his allotted days on this earth, and the dragon with him—though it had long watched over the wealth of the hoard!_

_Then did that giver of rings think it shameful that he should pursue the far-flyer with a troop, a large host; he did not fear the battle, nor think the dragon's warcraft a threat to his might and valor—he had passed through many desperate ventures, perils of war, contests, and battle-clashes since the proud victor had purged Hrothgar's hall and killed Grendel's kin, that loathsome spawn, in a mighty grapple."_

He closed the book, unwilling to read further, he did not want to dread the fight that was to come, the fight where he would surely die.

As the ancient Beowulf did before him, Beowulf selected the five best of his warriors, including young Wiglaf, who reminded Beowulf of himself when he was younger.

* * *

Wearing armor over his leather jacket and jeans, he worn hiking boots as well, his days of trying to impress his Lord Higlac over. He had fought in many battles proving his worth as a hero and king. It was not shameful for him to wear armor now against the guardian of treasure.

When they were near the dragon's cave, Beowulf turned to his warriors, "I am no longer young. I have fought in many battles and I bear the scars of them, showing my worth. I am now the defender of this land and I shall go to fight that fiery serpent where either he or I will emerge victorious! Do I fear his flame-breath? Yes. Any man who did not would have to be a fool! Which is also why my shield is flame retardant, and why I wear my armor, all the rest I leave to fate." He turned away from his warriors and strode towards the dragon's cave, like the champion he was, regal in his bearing, his face grim.

Walking cautiously once he was within the cave, he checked for signs of the massive serpent and his golden scales. After walking for several minutes, he found the hoard-guardian, lying on his treasure asleep. Many battle strategies ran through the old-veteran's mind, but he knew that none of his plans would work with the serpent's fire breath. Throwing caution to the wind, he charged, his battle cry echoing in the cave.

The hoard-guardian's head shot up, his eyes cold and calculating as he recognized a human voice. Rising, he charged towards the tunnel, his thunderous step making the mountain itself shake. The dragon snapped at Beowulf with its serpent-like head, and Beowulf deflected the dragon's blow with his shield, and so they fought against each other, both cunning masters studying the other and waiting for the other to make their one fatal mistake.

The dragon's head shot towards Beowulf again, and Beowulf, seeing his chance, dodged to the side, and swung his sword. He cursed as the blade shattered against the dragon's strong hide. The shards did more damage than the blow itself, the shards getting under the dragon's scales and causing the hoard-guarding to bleed.

Enraged, the dragon inhaled deeply before releasing an explosive jet of flames. Beowulf had just enough time to get behind his shield as the flames met it head on. The heat of the dragon's flame was more than the shield could handle though, and it began to melt in Beowulf's hands, slowly exposing him to the dragon's fiery rage. When his shield melted completely the dragon cut off his stream of fiery breath and gripped Beowulf by his neck, causing the noble warrior to cry out in shock, rage, and pain.

Wiglaf stared in horror as his king was gripped in the dragon's maul. He whipped around in disbelief as the warriors, who were older than him fled, their bravery in battle merely being tales of exaggeration. Wiglaf glared after them and said to himself, "Cowards! Do they not remember the gifts that our Lord, Beowulf bestowed upon us? Or how he took us in readily when we changed our ways to that of this culture? We drank and feasted with this noblest of warriors and this is how they repay him? I will not abandon our king!" He shouted the last part defiantly at the cowardly warriors before he raised his shield and rushed in, swinging his sword, he struck the dragon's chest, and it released his king.

The hoard-guardian opened its jaws again, and the flames swept forth and around young Wiglaf's shield as he defended his injured king.

Beowulf, his body trembling as blood poured from his neck wound, managed to recover his wits as he drew his war knife, with a mighty swing he plunged the blade into the dragon's neck, cutting off the stream of flames and the dragon fell, dead to the ground.

Wiglaf lowered his shield, and was ready to congratulate his king on another victory when he heard the rasping breath of his lord, the wound around his neck swollen as Beowulf struggled for breath.

Wiglaf quickly undid his canteen and bathed the neck wound with water, and he poured some of the liquid into Beowulf's mouth.

Gasping for breath, Beowulf spoke, "I knew that this battle would be my last…"

"Don't speak like that Lord Beowulf," Wiglaf pleaded, unwilling to accept that his king was really dying.

"Don't argue with me," Beowulf gasped, his body shuddering. "I want to know just what I have died for, if it will be enough to support the Geats…go…"

Wiglaf nodded and raced into the dragon's lair, he gazed at the treasure, not quite seeing it, before he tore back to Beowulf, and said, "It is beyond enough, my lord."

Beowulf smiled, and with trembling hands undid the gold collar around his neck, "Brave and noble Wiglaf, take this. You know the ways of our culture that we based off of the Anglo-Saxon's. I trust you to keep the traditions that were started when I was young going and keep our people's beliefs in mind and in your heart."

Wiglaf felt tears stinging his eyes and he quickly wiped them away, "Shall I do for you what the legendary Beowulf had done for him?"

"No," Beowulf gasped. "I am not he, though I bear his name and have accomplished similar feats. I merely want to be buried with the rest of our kinsmen who have gone before us."

"As you wish, my king," Wiglaf said.

Beowulf smiled at the young warrior, before his eyes lost their spark of life. Wiglaf closed the noble warriors eyes, before he picked up his king's body and carried it back to the hall where he would scold his kinsmen for abandoning their noble king, and he did as Beowulf had asked him, burying him with the Geats that had gone before him. Wiglaf went on to be a noble king of the Geats, making sure that he did not break his word to Beowulf.


	7. End Notes

**Characters not in the Original Beowulf**

**Aglaeca- **in the original _Beowulf _, Beowulf did not have a best friend, this character was purely made up to fit in my modern day version. His name means champion; monster.

**Headho-** though a lot of the characters kept the same names of the actual characters from _Beowulf_, I did not feel that Grendel should be "reborn" in the modern day. Grendel is his own creature, so I came up with Headho, hence the greater description for Headho versus Grendel in the original _Beowulf. _His name means fierce fighter.

**End Notes**

Thank you for reading my modern day, _Beowulf_, I did this as an extra credit assignment for my British Literature class. Yes, I'm aware my characters differ greatly from the others, and that some of it is not really "modern day", but it was the best I could come up with that fit with the story. I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews are greatly appreciated! Also, the text from the original _Beowulf_ came from the site, enotes.


End file.
